Little Boats


Life Boats by Maria Fokas Little boats stippled along the horizon of a golden sea; Inside my head, taintless journeys with innocent intentions – Temporary moments that last forever; recurring with seasons’ comings Tenuous threads that never break, beautifully wrapping wasted space in time Lifeless obstacles beneath the surface; like a vice, never committed Exempt from the fear of loss; I gather my drifted self – Bereft of a farewell kiss; {up in the sky} clouds cover me like an ivory laced blanket; On the day of the dead, my life begins with antithetical inclinations of love – Autumn frosted maple … Continue reading Little Boats

My Compass


My Compass by Maria Fokas The scent of hello(s); the cry in goodbye(s) The melody of lyrics; in pictures and words – Sonnets drawn on misty moments of forgotten first ideas The beginnings in the morning; the endings each night The key to memory; the compass to change – In the breaking of your voice – In the raging waves of oceans; all that was lost is found From mountain peaks, to the other side of moonlight I trace the whispers in your heart; Once upon a time  A poem in a dream; when she was mine.   For Maria-Zina … Continue reading My Compass

The Bridge to the Other Side:


                                                                              Photograph by Maria Fokas Setting of Beneath the White Willow – Novel by Maria Fokas Promise me, you will do the things we dreamt of doing together  Promise me, and if we ever meet again – I promise to make things right. . . . Darkness has taken hold of me; there is no plea for my weakness  But I will not forget: The times you held my hand, when I was far above the ground The times you held on, when I disappeared into the underworld And if by chance, you ever trip and fall; For doubt … Continue reading The Bridge to the Other Side:

Somewhere only we know


Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die. Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905 – 2004)    Photographs by © Maria Fokas 29/7/2015/All … Continue reading Somewhere only we know

A Thousand Years


It happened on the thousandth year; From the center core of all our tears It stirred the darkness into light Souls were born from the depths of night: A raging struggle; just to hold on Like grave many times before With doubtful eyes he smiled at me – But one cold night, he could not sleep; My hope had touched his lips Out of the dream he ran to me But time had given up on him That mundane morning: Like the journey of a butterfly I awoke, with no more tears in me My darkness had surrendered By the … Continue reading A Thousand Years

The Art of Waiting


The Art of Waiting by Maria Fokas A hush beneath the sea, whispers into each string of night; precisely, and endlessly. Dreams bend back on themselves, like fragile circles hoping to be traced. Where the two ends meet, the dream is nurtured; where the two ends part, the taste of sweet love remains – Each of the two circles is true, but the truths are not the same. And as the night wakes, our sun disappears beneath the earth; once more, no rest in waiting. The sea turns from deep blue to bright red; reaching words from land to land and … Continue reading The Art of Waiting

The Circle of Time


The Circle of Time by Maria Fokas The flow of time in a dream It rushes by – It stands still You reach into that endless stream You grasp the haste of freedom Where light and darkness meet Where the old creates the new Where the scent of Green fades into the wake of Blue Like a string that binds my heart to you Into the past, by a thought; Into to the future, with a hope. © Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved – Photography by Martin Hanley Continue reading The Circle of Time

Rain-Drops


Rain-Drops by Maria Fokas I peeked out of my window this morning at 6 am. It had been raining all night. The misty damp air said, “Get back in bed.” But I keep my eyes on the rain; where stories come from. It fervently thrums on roof-tops, and pavements; drip, drop, babble, drum  – accent on the tempo before another thrum. I make myself some coffee; my lips tease the blend before I take that sip, then I click on the saxophone. I succumb to those sensual pictures from the late 1940s and 50s before my time. They did know … Continue reading Rain-Drops